Part Two

Much to Ginny’s dismay and disgust, both Harry and Ron gaped ridiculously
after the woman with the perfect body. 'Well, fuck-all!' she thought bitterly.

'Would you take a look at her, then,' Harry said with a salacious grin.

Ron’s eyes were still fixed on the swimmer, who was now climbing out
of the pool, toweling her hair off with something soft and pink. 'Yeah—nice tits!' He placed his hands in front
of his chest and drew them away, pantomiming the size of the woman’s breasts. He and Harry laughed.

Across the pool, Draco Malfoy stared at them, rage welling up inside
him. If he hadn’t been mistaken, that rat bastard Weasley had just commented on the size of his mother’s… Damn it! Damn them both! he
thought rabidly, leave my mother out of this! He stalked furiously across the flagstone terrace to where Potter and Weasley
sat. Ron and Harry looked up as he approached.

'Malfoy,' Harry spat.

'Well, this must be my lucky day,' Draco sneered coldly. 'Three Gryffindor
losers in one place.' He ran his pale blue eyes slowly over Ginny’s body but didn’t smile; she blushed furiously.

Malfoy immediately punched Ron in the nose. Harry jumped up to defend
his best friend.

'Don’t you dare insult my mother!' Draco shouted.

Ron held a hand in front of his nose, which had started to bleed profusely.
He waved Harry off. 'You’re such an idiot, Malfoy,' he said wincing, grabbing Ginny’s towel, and stuffing it under
his nose. 'It wasn’t a bloody insult! Your mum is hot!'

Draco didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He looked back and forth between
Weasley and Potter, and then the utter absurdity of the situation hit him. Here he was, stuck on some ridiculous
island for two whole weeks with nothing to interrupt his solitude but a few curse spellbooks—and the two people
he liked least in the world sat in front of him, gaping after his own mum. Potter and Weasley, drooling at the
sight of his very own mum—ridiculous
though she could be at times, who could blame him for defending her honor? At least he could take some small satisfaction
from the dark circles blossoming around both of Weasley’s eyes. It had been a dead-on and very hard punch.

Then Ginny tapped him on the arm and spoke, interrupting his train of
thought. And the two words she uttered cut him deeper than if he’d been sentenced to a beheading death by his father’s
axe-wielding crony Macnair at the Ministry: 'Nice suit.'

***

Molly’s eyes were wide with a combination of panic and disbelief. Narcissa
Malfoy had dragged her over to the lounge chairs, plunked her down, immediately ordered them both something from
the bar that was blue and odious, and hadn’t yet shut up for a moment. In the course of five minutes Molly learned
all about the deplorable lack of house-elves at Malfoy Manor and how hard it was to keep interviewing replacements;
about Narcissa’s trip to Rome to find the perfect swimsuit and how nice they’d all been about it at the designer’s showroom when she’d modeled it for
them; about how much she missed Draco when school was in session; about how even though she knew most of the single
witches working at the Ministry had designs on her husband—who wouldn’t—he was well protected because she’d spent
her many hours alone perfecting the most amazing bewitching spell and he didn’t even know about it, bless his sweet seductive little heart.

She’s got to stop to take a breath sometime, Molly told herself. Finally, Narcissa paused just enough to sip the blue drink through
her straw. Molly jumped at the opportunity to get a word in.

'My goodness,' she said, trying hard to smile convincingly, 'are you
alone all day? No one to keep you company?'

'You have no idea,' Narcissa continued. 'It’s awfully hard work keeping
things clean at home! I mean, I know it’s not really little Harry Potter’s fault about Dobby, but still. Have you ever seen the Manor,
how huge it is and how easily it gets cluttered and dusty? Well, no, of course you haven’t, silly me.' Her eyes
widened, and the flicker of an idea actually crossed her face. 'But you’ll have to come and visit after we get
home! I’m enjoying this time with you so much! Let’s promise not to lose contact with each other after holiday.'
She squeezed Molly’s hand. 'Come on, then, love, drink up!' Narcissa shoved the blue drink into Molly’s other hand.
'I’ll tell you a secret.'

'Er—all right.' Molly wondered if she even had a choice in the matter,
but Narcissa leaned forward conspiratorially.

'People are always jealous of me,' she whispered. 'For the life of me
I can’t figure it out. I mean, sure, I was born with this amazing body and sure, I look great and sure, I have
the world’s handsomest husband and sure, the sex is unbelievable and sure, we’ve got scads of galleons and sure,
we’ve got this great estate and sure, we’ve got the nicest little son in the world and sure, Lucius will probably
be the next Minister of Magic. But honestly, they should try being me, just for one day. Put themselves in my shoes.' She sniffed.

Molly hadn’t a clue what Narcissa was prattling on about, but that didn’t
stop Narcissa.

'All I’m saying, Molly, is that it’s lonely at the top. Know what I mean?'

Molly shrugged, smiled weakly, and drank the blue stuff as quickly as
she could. Please shut up, just for a moment, she prayed.

Narcissa’s eyes twinkled; she took another sip. 'It’s called a Blue Hawaii, isn’t that just
perfect? I love them so much, I made Lucius get the recipe from that sweet Muggle boy at the bar.'

'What’s in them?' Molly was beginning to wish she hadn’t finished hers
quite so quickly; the pool was starting to look fuzzy around the edges.

'Well, they have these cute little umbrellas,' laughed Narcissa, 'but
besides that they’re pineapple juice and a couple types of Muggle liquor, something called rum and something called
Blue Curacao. I just adore them. Lucius ordered up a whole case of the blue stuff and had it sent back home by
owl post already. I love my baby to death—isn’t he just the nicest most selfless man you could imagine?'

Molly raised both eyebrows. 'Apparently so,' she said, stifling the temptation
to snicker. She’d heard enough bad things about Lucius Malfoy to last an entire lifetime; Arthur was always busy
planning his next raid on the Malfoys to try to uncover what he just knew was a treasure trove of Dark Arts artifacts hidden somewhere in their house. Their rivalry went way back, ever since Lucius had first spoken
out against Arthur’s precious life work, the Muggle Protection Act. This simple fact—that Malfoy seemed determined
to ruin her own husband’s most desperate desires for Muggle-Wizard cooperation—had made it so Molly never allowed
herself to think about Lucius Malfoy as a fellow human being. Yet here was the Evil Enemy’s wife, and she obviously
adored the man. In fact, she wouldn’t shut up about him, and through the alcohol haze that threatened to overtake
her, Molly wondered if it hadn’t been Lucius who’d perfected the bewitching spell and used it on Narcissa instead.
But that was unfair. Narcissa was a bit gabby, she thought generously, but she wasn’t evil. Why, she probably couldn’t
even hurt a fly. Now how could someone who was purportedly such a bad Dark wizard be so good to someone as—well,
as clueless and innocent as Narcissa?

Narcissa beamed at Molly. 'Look at him,' she cooed, pointing to her husband.
'He is just so darned sexy and adorable.' She waved and blew him a kiss; he nodded and smiled ever so slightly
before turning his attention back to Section C of USA Today.

'I have to admit,' Molly began, 'he certainly seems completely entranced
by you. Hang on.' She drew her wand out from the folds of her sun dress, pointed it at herself, and said 'Soleum Protectora—don’t want
to burn, you know.'

'Oh, go on then.' Narcissa felt around beneath her chair and drew out
a huge bag. She took out a box containing a pearly shining wand. 'Brand new,' she smiled, 'Lucius popped over to
Ollivander’s and got it for me while I was in Rome picking up my bikini. White willow, 12 and a half inches, dragon
heart string.' She pointed it at Molly and incanted 'Epidermis
Solaris.' A lovely tickle washed over Molly’s body; when she
looked down, she was the perfect shade of bronze to match her hair. 'I built the sunblocking spell right into that
one,' Narcissa told her proudly. 'I’m really good at charms.'

A genuine grin spread over Molly’s face. She’d never had a tan before
in her life, and she liked how it felt—all warm and comfortable and darn near perfect. She lifted up her empty
glass. 'Let’s get another one of these,' she told Narcissa.

'Not just now,' Narcissa giggled. 'First, I’m going to take you shopping,
and I won’t take no for an answer. There’s the most darling little place right here in the hotel and I saw something
there I know would fit you just perfectly.' She tucked the wand back into its case and stuffed the entire affair
back into her YSL beach bag. 'Draco, honey, yoo-hoo,' she called across the pool, 'You look after your little friends
there, we’ll be back in a bit.' Narcissa grabbed Molly by the hand and pulled her to her feet.

Molly didn’t even begin to protest. She simply followed Narcissa to the
cabana where Lucius sat, promising herself to take it slower with the next Blue Hawaii. 'Lucius,' she nodded.

He nodded back but said nothing.

'Hey baby.' Narcissa leaned over, took off his sunglasses, and kissed
him hard on the lips. 'Watch my stuff for me. We’ll be back.'

Lucius grinned, and Molly noticed for the first time—much to her dismay—that
his silver eyes were spectacularly beautiful. Why, anyone could fall in love with a man who had eyes like that….

'Don’t stay away too long,' he told his wife.

'You little cutie.' Narcissa ran her fingers through her husband’s golden
hair and dropped the sunglasses on the table in front of him. 'Now why would I want to do a silly thing like that.'

Molly giggled. How stupid it was, really, to vilify these two! They were
just adorable together. In fact, she could tell that they were absolutely crazy about each other. And how could
someone who had that much passion for his own wife be evil?

Narcissa kissed Lucius one last time, then linked arms with Molly. They
wandered away from the pool, toward the hotel shops. But before they got there, Molly tugged on Narcissa’s arm.

'What is it, love?'

'Do you… d’you think you could teach me that bewitching spell of yours?
I’d like to try it on Arthur.'

'Now you’re talking, sister.' Narcissa took Molly by the hand and they
disappeared around the corner.

***

Lucius put down the newspaper; he’d been staring at the Muggle football
scores for about half an hour without absorbing any of it. Stupid Americans, they didn’t even know that what they
called football was in fact an entirely different game from real football, although none of it held a candle to Quidditch. He glared up at the
sun, irritated at its brightness. He’d always felt a lot more comfortable in the dark. He longed for the cool foggy
dampness of Britain—damn, it was hot here.

He pulled back the sleeves of his shirt, casting an annoyed glance at
the tattoo inside his left forearm. Lucius considered the skull grinning back at him, snake pouring from its mouth.
He went back and forth on his feelings for it many times a day. Right now it pissed him off, since what he wanted
to do more than anything was jump into the pool and cool off. But that would mean exposing the Dark Mark, and with
Arthur Weasley so close, it was a risk he just couldn’t take. Fuck
You, Voldemort! he said to himself, then closed his eyes, waiting.
Every time he challenged the Dark Lord like that, there was payback, he knew it. Yep, here it was: a sharp and
suffocating tightness wracked his chest, causing him to gasp for breath. It would last just long enough to be quite
excruciating without doing any real physical damage—that long distance Cruciatus effect Voldemort had perfected
totally sucked. 'Fuck,' he whispered, 'All right, all right, you win, asshole, you got me, I’m yours, you know
it and I know it.'

Through the pain crushing his chest, he saw Arthur Weasley across the
way with his twin sons. He looked to be telling them a story; they laughed appreciatively in what Lucius imagined
were all the right places. Concentrate on them, he told himself, this exquisite
torture will all be over soon. Think of everyday things, don’t think of the pain.
He couldn’t imagine having seven children; the one he had kept him occupied enough, although Draco really favored
his mother and who could blame him. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—cut through the agony as Lucius watched
the Weasleys’ interaction. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he knew it had nothing to do with him, or
with Voldemort, or with anything but just enjoying their time as a family. Just being able to enjoy a vacation.
His eyes filled with tears (of pain! just pain! he told himself).

Lucius shook his head as the pain slowly subsided, and a new feeling—a
feeling of absolute power and the rush of energy that came with it—flowed through him. The reward after the torture,
just Voldie’s way of making sure Lucius remembered that with great power came great responsibility, or whatever
that quote was he’d read in one of Draco’s American comic books one time. Something about a boy who’d been partially
transfigured into a spider. Not bad, actually, he remembered, for a Muggle to have come up with a story and a tagline
like that.

He drew the sleeve of his shirt back down to his wrist as a bouncy young
woman in a flowered halter top and a pair of khaki shorts drew near. He was feeling much better now; his silvery eyes glowed ever so slightly.

'Can I get you anything, sir?' she asked brightly.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, considering the offer. Did the Muggle girl
realize who she was talking to? Him, Lucius Malfoy, right-hand man to Lord Voldemort, Last Remaining Descendent
(or was it ancestor?
he couldn’t remember any more) of Salazar Slytherin—whom he swore silently he would never ever curse again, the
pain was getting far too old—and soon to be Minister of Magic if everything went right. She had actually offered
him anything and everything—he couldn’t help but laugh. She had no idea… he might just take her up on her offer….

'Sir?' she said again, a look of impatience blossoming over her pretty
face.

Lucius raised his hand to reach for her, but much to his annoyance, an
image of his wife popped into his head. In his mind’s eye, she was holding forth one of her many wands, shaking
her head with that you wouldn’t dare expression on her face. One Cruciatus curse a day was more than enough….

He swallowed hard. 'Thank you,' he said quietly, 'A very tall glass of
water with ice will do nicely.'

'Ice water. You got it!' The girl bounced off, happy to have gotten her
answer from the strange Englishman who came all the way to Hawaii but stayed in the shade and wouldn’t swim like
the other tourists. Lucius watched her go realizing rather unhappily that, when it came down to it, he served not
one but two
masters: Voldemort and Narcissa. He might just as well put a tattoo of her inside his other forearm.

***

Draco slumped to the side of the pool. In his haste to defend his mother,
he’d completely forgotten about the ridiculous Speedo he wore. Had he remembered, he would have at least brought
his towel along for the ride…

'Malfoy, are you blushing?' Harry laughed out loud.

'Damn you, Potter!' Draco hissed. He realized with a brief stab of jealousy
that Ron and Harry had the cool
kind of swimsuit, the ones that looked like what those oddly tall ultra-hormonal Americans wore on the basketball
court. In fact, the entire male side of the Weasley family sported them—though where the money had come from to
buy them, Draco had no idea.

Ron grinned. 'So, Malfoy, been down in your family’s dungeon so long
you lost track of what’s fashionable?' He elbowed Harry in the ribs; the two of them snickered heartily.

Draco hid his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe that Potter and
Weasley were getting the better of him. Where were those idiots Crabbe and Goyle when he needed them? 'Argh!' he
yelled, suddenly fierce, 'SHUT IT!'

'You wish,' Harry said. Then he turned to Ron: 'This is excellent.'

Ron nodded, a smirk playing across his face.

Draco, on the other hand, felt completely trapped. If he got up and walked
back to his chair he’d be admitting defeat, not to mention having everyone stare at his barely-covered ass on the
way by. If he stayed here, Potter and Weasley would just continue to torture him. It was a no-win situation. If
only he knew how to apparate! Then he could just disappear, which was really all he felt like doing.

Ginny spoke up sharply. 'Stop it, Ron!' she said. 'You’re being so mean.'

Thank you, Draco
said silently, although he was relatively disgusted with himself for being grateful to any Weasley.

'Oi, Ginny, you’re the one who started it.' Ron had a hard time disguising
his laugh as a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'Speedo.'

'But Ron,' she whined, 'It’s not nice to make fun of other people. Look at how you felt with those dress robes Mum
got you last year.'

Ron’s smile turned quickly to a glum look of despair. Then his eyes narrowed
and he turned to Draco. 'Yeah, you don’t waste any time making fun of me when you get the chance, Malfoy. Payback’s
a bitch, isn’t it.'

Draco knew his face was still a bright shade of pink. He tried his very
best to summon his father to his side for help, but Lucius was engaged in conversation with one of the servers
who continuously and annoyingly circled the pool deck. You’re
on your own now, he thought bitterly. No Death Eaters to bully them away for you.
It was time to take action. 'All right, then,' he said resolutely. 'That’s it. I’m out of here.' Tiny suit or no
tiny suit, he stood.

'Go on, then, Malfoy,' said Harry, 'we’re just… well, just fucking with
you.' He grinned. 'Come on. I packed a spare swimsuit. You can borrow it.'

'No, Harry, you wouldn’t!' said Ron quickly, testing his nose to make
sure the bleeding had stopped.

Harry shrugged. 'Come on, Ron, it’s just Malfoy. Look at him—without
Crabbe and Goyle, he’s nothing. He’s can’t hurt me—it’s not like he’s got room to tuck a wand into that swimsuit
or anything.' He stood to join Draco at the side of the pool. 'All right, then, Malfoy?'

'Be careful, Harry,' whispered Ginny.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Harry winked at Ginny. 'Save us a spot,
we’ll be right back.'

Ginny turned a furious shade of red as she watched Harry and Draco walk
off toward the hotel.

'You could take a lesson from him, then,' sighed Ginny, the memory of
Harry’s adorable wink still fresh in her memory. 'I don’t think Harry Potter has a mean bone in his body.'

'Malfoy does,' said Ron moodily. 'Why’d he have to be here, anyway.'

But Fred and George took that moment to race over and jump into the pool,
sending huge waves of water cascading over Ron and Ginny. As with everything else, they’d seemingly bewitched the
pool water to do their bidding. Ron, up to the challenge, jumped in with his brothers, leaving Ginny soaking wet
and anxiously watching the hotel door for a sign of Harry’s return.

***

'Here it is.' Narcissa ran a long finger across a mostly red and orange
floral sundress made from a filmy type of gauze. The neckline plunged into a low vee; a slit ran sharply up either
side.

Molly blushed. 'Oh, I could never….'

Narcissa waved her hand and pulled the dress off the rack. 'Nonsense.
It matches your hair color perfectly.' She held it up against Molly; it was at least several sizes too small but
that didn’t stop Narcissa. 'Hold this.' She fumbled in her handbag for a moment, then came up smiling. In her hand
was a small vial filled with a swirling turquoise-blue liquid. Narcissa’s eyes gleamed as she shook it back and
forth.

'What…' began Molly.

'Oh, you’re going to love this!' squealed Narcissa. She marched Molly toward the counter, plunked the sundress
down, and fished once again in her bag for her room key. 'It’s on me!' she smiled with obvious delight.

'Hush, sweetie, it’s a gift from one girlfriend to another.' She signed
her name to the receipt with a loopy flourish. 'I prefer quills and ink,' she whispered, 'but these ball-point
pens aren’t too bad once you get the hang of them. Come along.' She pulled Mrs. Weasley out into the corridor and
into a nearby room marked WOMEN. Once inside, she giggled like a schoolgirl and pressed the vial into Molly’s palm.

Molly inspected it, suspicious. After all, her husband and Narcissa’s
husband were mortal enemies. What was Narcissa asking her to ingest? She rolled the vial around in her hand and
a label caught her eye: Sev’s Super Slimming Serum. 'What?' she began.

Narcissa’s eyes twinkled in excitement. 'I swear by Salazar Slytherin’s
socks, Molly, this stuff is so
amazing!' She glanced around, making sure they were alone in the room, and lowered her voice. 'Okay. When I was
preggers with Draco, I gained… well, let’s just say I got huge, okay? And back then, Lucius and Sev—you know, Sevvie Snape? the Potions teacher
at Hogwarts?—well, they were really
good friends. So, after Draco was born and I was sitting around feeling all sorry for myself because I was so bloated
that Lucius wouldn’t even look
at me… Sev whipped me up a huge supply of this! It’s awesome! He’s so unbelievably skilled at potions, you know?
He should go into business. I could market him like this—' she snapped her fingers—'if we could just get him cleaned
up and looking a little more presentable.'

Molly looked at her reflection in the mirror, then at Narcissa. One of
them was tall and slim and gorgeous with perfect proportions. The other simply was not. 'Well, you see,' she said
quietly, 'I don’t mind how I am, I’m quite comfortable with it.'

'No kidding,' said Narcissa. 'I know you’re fine with it. But come on,
sister, give it a try, reinvent yourself for the occasion. It doesn’t last forever or anything, just a week or
two. Drink up.'

Molly still wasn’t convinced, but… what could be so bad about it? Just
for a try? 'I never like the way potions taste,' she argued feebly.

Narcissa waved away her concerns. 'Odorless and tasteless. I’ve got about
a hundred vials left in my private storeroom at home—I usually only have to use them after the really big feasts
that last for days and days. When you come over after we get back, I’ll show you all the neat stuff I have in there.'
She giggled. 'Even Lucius doesn’t know about it. He told me to get rid of anything having to do with Sev after
they had their big falling out. But I’m not that stupid.' Her lip curled into a sneer quite reminiscent of the one her husband
usually wore, although on her the effect was rather charming. 'Bottoms up, girl! How else are we going to get that
bewitching spell you want to learn off on the right foot?'

'Right,' said Molly. She uncorked the vial, then very hesitantly lifted
it to her lips.

'You’re acting like it’s going to kill you or something,' Narcissa cooed
offhandedly. 'I’m
not the one in our household who poisons their friends for a lark—go on, drink it all or it won’t work!'

Odorless and tasteless my ass,
thought Molly as she tried hard not to gag. It smelled vaguely of vinegar and petrol mixed with essence of rose,
and tasted like one of Fred’s—or was it George’s?—dung bomb cremes that they liked to slip in with the sweets…
wait! Did Narcissa just say something about poison? She’d definitely have to remember that and report it to Arthur. But then
the most wonderful flavor filled her mouth, like hot mulled cider topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. She felt
the warm potion slip down her throat and promptly forgot any mention of anything suspicious as she shut her eyes
in rapture. This was the most wonderful sensation in the world, like floating weightlessly in a just-perfect not-too-hot,
not-too-cold bath. Like floating through space, looking around at the stars. As if there were not a care in the
world… she was definitely
going to send an owl to the Headmaster when they got back and recommend a pay raise for the Potions teacher….

Molly opened her eyes and peered into the mirror. Looking back at her
was someone she recognized, but barely. She wasn’t as tall as her new and now forever best friend Narcissa, but
they shared some of the same Amazonian proportions: hourglass figure, tiny waist, ample chest, killer legs… yes,
she was still herself, but enhanced…
she raised her hand to her mouth. 'I—I can’t believe it!' Then she started to laugh. 'I haven’t looked like this
in 30 years!'

Narcissa held out the gauzy sundress. 'Go on, then, in there, put it
on. I’ll be right here.'

Molly ducked into one of the stalls to change—this was unbelievable!
And all this time she’d been avoiding using magic to do anything for herself. Well, all that was a thing of the
past now—she would hunt down Snape and have him mix her up a hundred vials of the stuff too. The sundress slid easily over her head and
shoulders, settling perfectly onto her new size six frame. And Narcissa had been right, the dress was absolutely
made for her; the reds and oranges in the flowers offset her own complexion beautifully. A brand new feeling settled
onto Molly’s shoulders. For the first time in a long time, she felt… no, it wasn’t confident,
she’d always been confident. It was something different. It was
absolute mastery and a feeling that nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her. Was this how Narcissa felt
all the time, so in control? Was this what it felt like to be a… a Malfoy?

She touched her wand to her old clothes, shrinking them into a tiny package
and banishing them to her purse. Opening the door, she strode forward thinking, wait,
I don’t stride… well, I guess I do now!

Narcissa beamed at her, taking her by the hand. 'Now, let’s get up to
my suite and order in some shrimp cocktails and a couple more of those blue drinks. We have a lot of charms practice
ahead of us.'

Molly cast one glance back at the mirror, then tipped her head and laughed.
'Bring it on,' she said as they walked out the door.

***

//

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